Reclaiming the Black T
by Kay20
Summary: *Complete* I was inspired by a little idea about Reela and a certain t-shirt from season 12. Starts out with a Ray retrospective and goes from there into the future by the end.
1. Chapter 1

I never intended to write two completed fanfics in the space of a month, but sometimes you get inspired. Must be ER drawing to a close – I've only written five fanfics in my life including this one. I started with one idea, but then realized I wanted to go into Ray's story/perspective to set up the idea. I've been watching old episodes on TNT, which helps. So this went from a ficlet to a fic, but I still hope you enjoy it!

I start out with history, but then insert my own interpretive ending. Spoilers through 15.13 for those who haven't seen the episodes.

Thanks again to the Save Reela boardmates that helped come up with this idea!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the show, just this work of fiction.

**Chapter One**

Ray didn't know when it had happened.

Looking back on their time together, he couldn't pinpoint a time when he would have said, "Yes, I fell in love with Neela then."

He figured that was part of the reason he fell so hard, because it had happened gradually rather than suddenly, so he was in over his head before he could avoid the feelings, avoid the glow and avoid the hurt.

If Michael had stuck around without returning to Iraq it would have helped. Neela would have moved out, her presence would have become firmly entwined with another's, and she wouldn't have been in Ray's space day in and day out.

But Michael hadn't stayed, and it was almost like Ray could ignore the ring on Neela's finger. A small band that faded into the background when there wasn't a man behind it. Particularly when it was Ray she shopped with, Ray that picked up stuff she forgot at work, Ray that she bitched to about work, and Ray who got to deal with combined household chores. At some point they became a married couple that wasn't married.

The day that Neela had gone missing during a plane crash should have been an indication to Ray of romantic feelings on his part, but he had chalked it up to general concern. He had been furious at Pratt for not at least trying to ascertain where Neela was before he had left. Through the trauma he worked on Neela would periodically float through his mind. _If Neela were here she would…_ But it wasn't like he left the ER, guns blazing, ready to go save her from whatever burning building she was in.

But when he had spotted her with those two small children, the amount of relief he felt, enough to make him feel a bit lightheaded, should have clued him into the fact that maybe his heartstrings were starting to be tugged.

But then she got married. And he had crashed at Brett's, fleetingly realizing while he was there that he was starting to get used to a cleaner apartment. Never had Brett's bathroom floor disgusted him so. He had bitched to Brett about it, and it wasn't until his friend had looked at him like he had grown a third eye did he ask, "What?"

"Dude – you've been infected by a girl."

"What? Don't be ridiculous."

"You've mentioned Dr. Neela about four times already and you've been here an hour."

He had laughed it off saying, "It's only because she's raised my standard of cleanliness beyond you plebes."

Another sign that he had missed.

Then Michael left, and Ray had moved back into his apartment almost as if Michael had never been. The only difference was Neela's wedding ring and the increased charges for phone calls to Iraq on their phone bill. Well, and her occasional rants at her husband that he had to sit through. There was a time when she kept asking him for his "male perspective" and after several uncomfortable conversations about why men never returned phone calls and why they persisted on feeling heroic in times of war, the conversations had petered out. Either Ray had outlived his use, or Neela had gotten over it. Not that she had wanted Ray's advice anyway. The few times he had tried to give his perspective, she had bitten his head off. He had learned that what she was really looking for was someone to vent to, so he finally kept quiet. He hadn't noticed that that had saved him from defending somebody he hadn't really wanted to defend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Weeks went by, and suddenly it was spring. Love was supposed to be in the air. And one day Ray suddenly realized he couldn't remember the last time he had been on a date. When had he become so comfortable coming home and just hanging out with Neela?

That should have been a sign.

But he had chalked that up to being lazy. It was easier to come home and hang out with his best friend (he could call her that now) rather than dragging himself out to some bar to try and impress the ladies. He found that the bargirls that he normally would have found attractive were somewhat vapid and young now. He figured that was the side effect of hanging out with Abby and Neela all the time at work. Hitting up the more attractive and smart girls took effort. And when he went out (don't get him wrong, he still liked to knock 'em back on a weekly basis), he just didn't bother to try.

Which kind of freaked him out.

So he had gone out that night and met a girl named Ashley that he wanted to cook for. He pulled out all the stops, trying to impress. He must have come off like a stalker or a nerd who was trying too hard as she never showed up. He was a Doctor with a capital D for chrissakes – he thought that guaranteed him an instant pass. Apparently not.

He had drowned his thoughts and sorrows in _Ghost_, only to turn the channel when Neela turned up, not wanting her to see his sad state of affairs (or the fact that he was watching such a chick flick). He thought about lying about Ashley coming and going, but gave up the minute he realized a) he didn't care, and b) it took too much effort. She, of course, ragged him for being stood up.

Recording her television shows came kind of naturally to him then, along with picking up her cereal and snacks at the store. She did the same for him, though she tended to always throw something fun into the grocery pile knowing that he would appreciate it. Back then it was Peeps. He had inhaled them down, leaving only one for her, which she had waited a week before eating, tormenting him. She called them "American marshmallows."

But all of that still didn't light his lightbulb.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Making her sit through scary movies was a sight to behold. She would spend half the movie with her hands on her face, peering around her fingers and continually asking him, "Is it over yet?"

But he could tell that she loved the adrenaline rush, which probably had something to do with her being a surgeon (and with him being an ER physician). And he had found it fascinating that she could deal with blood on a gurney or on an operating table, but watching _Poltergeist_ made her queasy. She had explained it away as in the hospital she had control, watching a movie she didn't.

He hadn't cared; he just loved to watch her watching the movie. They would grab their food if they hadn't eaten, and would eat while watching. Inevitably her legs would end up being thrown over his at some point during the evening (usually while eating dessert) as she spread herself out on the couch. As the movie wore on she would curl herself more and more into a ball, and come closer and closer towards him, until she eventually buried her face in his shoulder at some point.

He had looked forward to every minute of it, and continued the tradition until it became "their" thing. And he didn't analyze the fact that at some point he had started to rest his hand on her legs, and that he would sometimes throw his arm along the back of the couch to better hug her to him.

He didn't develop a clue even at that point.

God, he had treated her like a comfortable girlfriend without ever realizing it. It must have been because he never went through a honeymoon phase with her – not trying to impress, not trying to be suave, not trying to get in her pants within a certain time period.

So it had been a rude awakening the morning she had fled (fled being the operative word) to attend her conference. He had only meant to get the sauce stain she had on her collar off, knowing that she would hate him later if he let her leave the house with it on her shirt. Kinda the equivalent to letting someone have a big meeting with a huge piece of spinach hanging in their teeth (which she had saved him from once during one embarrassing moment his intern year).

But it hadn't been until they were standing close together, her standing a hand's breath away from his bare chest, that he had realized he wanted to kiss her. Open mouthed, head bending back, pressed up against him, kiss her. It had been only a fleeting feeling as she tore off, but it had been there.

And suddenly he was aware. Aware of where she was, aware of her stature, aware of her breathing, aware of his feelings. Just…aware.

And he had hated it. The comfortable feeling was gone, and he had had a sneaky suspicion it wasn't gone just for him.

So when his patient that day had said that he was into his best friend's girl and wanted to be checked into the psych ward, Ray had morosely chuckled and chalked that up to a higher power telling him, "look knucklehead, you're being an idiot, she's married, get over it. Look at this noob, don't be him."

So he had gone out, bought stir fry items, rented a movie, and tried not to think about the fact that Chuny had given him a speculative look after he had put the document he had borrowed from Neela's locker back in her locker.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

It had all come crashing down when she had said she was moving out. He didn't get it. He'd tried hadn't he? He didn't come on to her…he was a good roommate, he cooked her dinner for crying out loud. But apparently the sheer chance of temptation was enough to send her running.

And he had squashed the voice in his head that was vehemently telling him to ask her if she felt the same way.

She was _married_. She was _honorable_. And there was no way in hell with her moral standards she was going to be leaving her husband for him. The rocker who rented horror movies and made her stirfry? How did that compare to the guy that was halfway across the world defending his country?

Did he want her to leave her husband for him?

He had squashed that thought too.

So he had focused on being the best roommate ever. He cleaned, he cooked, he didn't rent movies that would encourage her to spend the night on the couch with him. He gave her space. Basically, he gave her every reason he could think of to change her mind about moving out.

And when that hadn't worked he finally decided to just talk to her about it. Though it had taken two trips to get coffee and a lot of lurking around her presence that day at work to finally do it. Enough so that Abby at one point had given him a funny look that basically announced, "You ain't fooling me." He had grimaced, assuming that Neela had given Abby all the necessary dirty details. It explained the recent looks of slight pity.

The conversation with Neela didn't go well. He had heard himself talking, trying to convince her that things could go back to where they were, that he could be the best roommate ever (knowing that after two weeks he would go back to leaving towels on the bathroom floor). He hadn't said it directly, but he had been basically trying to say, "I won't make a pass at you. Pinky swear."

It was at that point he had realized how much he didn't want her to go, and how much he looked forward to seeing her at home. The thought of not having her around dismayed him more than he wanted to admit. He had just wanted her there, whatever of her he could get.

He had been in trouble.

And she was still married.

He still didn't call it love.

But she had said she was already looking for a place, and that had hurt him more than he wanted to admit. In a way he had been heartened – it meant that it wasn't just him, it meant that she had feelings, no matter how buried they were. But it had also meant that she was purposely pushing him away, and he didn't want to be held at arms length.

He had avoided the Gallants for the rest of the day, not wanting to see their happy, shiny faces.

It had been a shock at the end of the day when he heard that he and Neela had been the source of rumors. Apparently everyone else had figured out the whole situation before he had. But they had also assumed he was a piggish ass. And he had been kind of insulted. Because his co-workers had assumed the worst of him, and of her, and somehow that pissed him off.

Mostly because what they had was more than just "roommates with benefits."

But there was a little bit of him that also was mad because he _hadn't_ slept with Neela in those initial months. And he regretted not making a move.

So he had put one last ditch effort into a peace offering – picking up a pizza on the way home. Hoping against hope that her day with the Gallants had gone poorly and she was sticking around for whatever reason. And then berating himself for hoping such a thing because he just wanted her to be happy.

But he didn't want to put words to what he was feeling. He didn't want to analyze it, and he didn't want to spend time on it. That route led only to hard realizations that couldn't see the light of day.

Unfortunately, he had gotten home to discover Neela packing her things and moving out. He had been surprised, he had thought he would have more time… Time to do what, he didn't know, but time…

He had strung together some vague comments about waiting to move out, tequila – it all flew by in a bit of a haze. She didn't think sticking around would be a good idea. He supposed she was being the rational one of the two of them. When had he become such a clingy girl?

But when he had discovered she had been sleeping in one of his shirts for at least a month, blood had rushed to his head and all he knew was that he couldn't let this woman go. A charged silence had fallen as he gave serious thought to just leaning over and kissing her. If she had slept in his shirt it meant something right? Meant that she felt some pull towards him just as he felt towards her? It had to mean something beyond her other pajamas were dirty?

To test his theory inch by inch he had started to lean forward, giving her time to pull away, giving him time to come to his senses.

But after a few seconds that felt like thousands of years, she had brushed by him and walked away, leaving him stunned, speechless, and overall completely disconcerted.

What the hell did one do in a situation like that? She was _married_.

_Fuck._

So he had chased after her, not knowing what he would say, but knowing that she had to take at least something from their time together, something beyond her knowledge of his gross habits, DVD collection and grocery list.

So he had tried to give her the shirt. And he had confessed that he had feelings. And he had tried to make her understand that he knew that was _wrong_. But what could he do about it? It wasn't like he could go back in time and erase the things that had transpired between them. And frankly he didn't want to; she had upped his game and taught him that wanting a smart woman kinda rocked.

But he still hadn't told himself that he loved her. He just knew he was wrapped up in her, and that maybe space would be better for him as well, time to separate himself from the Neela Rasgotra cloud he had wrapped himself in, for better or worse.

She had refused his shirt, which he equated correctly to refusing him. Leaving him on a street corner feeling like someone had backed a truck over him, then put it in reverse and done it again. Quite prophetic that moment.

And even then he had gone back upstairs, thrown the shirt into the far corner of his closet and thoroughly proceeded to ignore it for weeks, pretending it wasn't there. Just like he had pretended to not care that the apartment felt empty, boring, dark and just depressing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

He went out a lot that first week Neela was gone. He kissed a lot of girls. And just when he had convinced himself that he was numb, that he could see her at work without getting embarrassed at what he had said, that he could finally pick up the phone to call her as a friend – Michael _died_.

His first concern had been for her, what she would be going through. He had known the words she said on the rooftop were out of despair and agony. He had honestly just wanted to hold her.

But when he went home and stared at her closed door, he had grimaced to recognize in himself a feeling that made him feel a little ill.

She was _free_.

So he had waited, upset that she didn't return his phone calls, but knowing why she didn't. He had waited through not having her at work, waited through asking Abby how she was doing, waited through Pratt giving him knowing looks (and what turned out to be bad advice), and waited through Neela coming back to work looking exhausted.

He took down his Craig's List post for a roommate.

Even then he didn't admit it was love. He had just wanted a girl - that was it. The girl just happened to be Neela.

And slowly she started to pull herself back together. She smiled more often, laughed more often, actually went out to dinner with Abby, talked to him in the halls – conversations he tried to nurture and encourage. If the nurses noticed that he went up to the surgical floor more frequently than before he didn't want to know.

One day he had noticed her wedding ring was gone.

So the next day he started to do little things, launched a quiet assault. Got her coffee, mentioned the things he knew she loved (he had sat through a World Poker marathon for that madness), brought her the remaining things she had left in his apartment. Mentioned he was going to Jumbomart, so would she like anything as well?

But he never asked her out. He had been trying to just get himself in her line of vision again, almost like approaching a skittish deer. The day he gave her some of her mail was a prime example of his careful approach.

But unbeknownst to him, someone else was launching a not-so-quiet assault. And when he had finally noticed it happening, it was too late. He had caught a gaggle of giggling girls around Neela once in the hall, and then Chuny mentioned a "mystery man."

Foolishly, with an ego that stretched for miles, he had thought the mystery man might have been him.

Oh, how he had been wrong. So, so wrong.

He hadn't liked Gates when he first met him, and when Gates accidentally insulted him upon their first meeting (_"I heard she had a roommate that never tried to sleep with her."_) it officially put Gates on Ray's shit list.

But it wasn't until a few weeks later, when Ray had finally worked up the nerve to ask Neela out, that everything came crashing down.

That had been the day that he finally figured out he loved her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Ray had thought – it's almost a sign. Hawks tickets unclaimed, given to Ray, practically begging to be given to Neela. He had put the tickets in his pocket, looking for her at the end of the M&M conference, running through various scripts in his head…

"_Hey, so I got these tickets, wanna go?"_

"_So I heard you were free tonight, and what could be better than ice hockey?"_

"_You know you want to see grown men beat their brains out over the ice, right?"_

He had finally settled on the last phrase as his opening, only to encounter his worst nightmare slathering himself all over the woman he loved. And her welcoming it.

He had thought he was going to make it the rest of the way down the hall. He had started out calm. But when he had seen the supply closet on his right he couldn't resist making a detour, slamming the door as hard as he could as he entered.

Amidst the cleaning supplies, buckets and mops, plus the vague smell of bleach, he had realized he was furious. Steaming mad. His hands had been shaking.

He had wanted to peel Gates off of Neela, had wanted to rant at her for even allowing Gates to touch her. This wasn't supposed to be how it happened. It was supposed to be _him_…

He had sat in there for a good fifteen minutes, praying no one would need bleach, ammonia, disinfecting wipes or anything else janitorial related.

And the thought that had stuck in his head had been, _"How could she? He doesn't love her like I do… How could she throw that away?"_

He supposed it was strange that sometimes his recollection of figuring out he was in love with Neela was accompanied by the smell of Clorox.

His being irate and jealous hadn't stopped there, and it didn't stop for weeks. Which accounted for the misguided relationship he built with poor Katey Alvaro. And the countless fights he had with Gates over whatever the hell he could pick a fight over. He wasn't proud of himself for a few of them. But he couldn't get himself to care – after all, whose feelings was he protecting? Gates'?

He had told himself he didn't have time to look for a roommate.

He let himself fall into what Katey offered – distraction, attentiveness, fun. And he had felt bad, because at one point he might have fallen for her. But that was before a reserved British woman made him feel like he was on fire with just one look.

And just when he had thought he could put the final nail into the Rasgotra/Barnett coffin she, of course, came around again. Asked him to coffee one day at work. Started confiding in him. And one eventful night after work, joined him for a beer.

He had been lost all over again. He withdrew from Katey, avoiding phone calls, avoiding emails, avoiding her. He knew he was being an ass, but he wanted to let this thing with Neela play out without drama from other parts of his life. Plus he hadn't known if he wanted to eliminate the back-up plan. Though he hadn't thought Katey would stick around to be the back-up plan.

Ironically the night Neela met him for a beer was when he had found the black t-shirt, buried in the back of his closet. He had been looking for his guitar picks since he was feeling inspired, and had shoved a couple things around. There the t-shirt was. Forgotten, dirty, dusty, but there.

He had washed it, and happened to wear it the night before they kissed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

He hadn't expected anything from that ride home except a chance to spend more time with her. Feel her out, evaluate exactly where they were going with their current behavior. This time she had been searching him out at work on a more frequent basis. He had loved every minute of it, knowing Gates was to distracted to notice 'cause he had his own problems.

In the car, Ray and Neela had traded stories of embarrassing moments – trying to obtain levity after a long day of work. They had recalled a long night of whisky that involved her drunkenly trying to play his guitar, and him drunkenly trying to prevent her from doing it. It had been the three stooges minus one, and for some reason (alcohol related) they had giggled and laughed their way through the entire drunken evening.

He had mentioned that they should do it again sometime, and surprisingly she agreed.

She had looked so beautiful in his car, laughing, snow falling behind her head, that he had stopped her when she had tried to get out. Just with a careful hand placed upon hers. What he had expected was for her to skittishly jump out of his SUV, what he got was beyond his wildish imagination.

Kissing her delivered on every dream, and the fact that it was tentative and tender to start out, and not hot and tempestuous, felt right. After all, this had been a _long_ time in coming. Why rush through it?

Her lips had tasted good, she had tasted good. And when her tongue reached out to brush against his lips, he had been the one to pull back in surprise. She had used the opportunity to lean forward and press her lips more firmly against his.

Right about this time he had leaned back, thumped the hazard lights on, and turned the ignition so the car's engine died. He did all of this in a bit of a frenzy, convinced that if it took him too long she would escape out the car door.

When he had turned back he saw her waiting, but still leaning towards him, waiting for him to finish dealing with the car. He hadn't been surprised she wasn't overly shy, he knew there had been a fireball beneath that slightly neurotic surface.

So with keys still jingling against the wheel, he had leaned back over, stuck his hand in her hair, and kissed her with a thoroughness that would guarantee she would remember this when they next met again. Covering her mouth with his, flicking at her tongue with his, starting at the corner of her mouth and working inwards, he had made sure every inch of those lips were intimately familiar with his mouth.

And when he finally drew back, breathing hard after only a minute or two of some very deep making out, he had noticed that she looked _very_ mussed. The male ego side of him had surged with pride thinking that he had done that, making her breathe hard, her lips already swollen and glistening, and her pupils dilated. He ran his thumb across her lips and along her jaw, enjoying watching her eyes flutter closed.

He had then reached across the seat to pull her towards him, intending to pull her over onto his chair, but that was when she finally came to her senses. She flung open her eyes, shook her head, tucked her hair behind her ears and said, "I'll see you soon."

And with that, the car door had opened, a flash of cold air and snow breathed through the car, the door slammed shut, and she was gone, racing to her apartment in the snow.

He had known he had left her with lots to think about. She left him with a very interesting dream that night.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

It hadn't surprised him when Neela didn't call the next day. And he himself had groaned when he had thought of the girl he was supposed to be seeing. He had supposed he should man-up and quit being a chickenshit.

So when he had slunk into work the next day after that he was nervous. How would she react? Would she be nervous? Would he be able to work around her without wanting to repeat the kiss that had seared it's way into his brain? Did Abby know?

He had wanted to know who had the surgical consult that day, and surprise, surprise, it had been Neela. Though when he asked no one jumped, pointed to him and said "AH-HA!" which he had supposed was a good sign.

And Abby didn't avoid him – also a good sign. Plus there had been no pity looks.

Going into his second hour he had been starting to feel a bit better, and was actually looking forward to when they would meet up, so he had gone into the breakroom to grab some tea to keep him calm. And of course, there she was.

Seeing her with her hair up and in scrubs had flustered him, she looked so put together versus when he had last seen her. Without a hair out of place she looked untouchable. And the thought had floated through his head that all he wanted to do was unravel that bun piece by piece until her hair looked great against his bedroom pillow.

Which had flustered him some more.

Which made him look like an ass when he picked up the decaf coffee thinking it was tea, then asked for the honey, but didn't use it because it wouldn't be good in his coffee. Although he had noted she was just as flustered as him when she responded "yeah?" when he asked for the honey.

Small victories. They counted.

She had been clearly awkward, and not in a "I'm avoiding you, you stalker" kind of way. More in a "I'm not ready to talk about this, I'm a little nervous" kind of way.

Small victories.

So he had asked her if she was busy, and when she couldn't even string two words together, he decided it was time to go. They had proceeded to do an awkward shuffle dance in the interest of getting around one another, and his whole body had tingled when he finally made it out the door.

He had laughed. He was back to being excited.

But then the trauma came in – a husband losing his wife while trying to make her proud. Ironically he had ended up assisting with Gates, which had led to an awkward moment and stare with Neela. Clearly Gates didn't know about the kiss, and Ray's confidence had started to pick up speed as he realized her not telling Gates meant she had wanted to keep it secret. And the only reason to keep it secret was if she was considering what to do about it.

The husband lost his wife, and Ray had been reminded that love could be fleeting. So he decided not to avoid the topic with Neela.

Course, he could have brought it up at a better time than at the jukebox at Sam's party while deriding Neela's choice in music. But hey, better that than never, right?

He had winced when he heard himself lob out, "are we going to pretend it never happened?" It was like a defense mechanism that needed to be scratched.

And he hadn't been surprised when she said she needed time to figure things out. So he agreed, hoping that this next time was the charm. And he even agreed to white boy shuffle dance with her on the small dance floor. While drinking beer to calm his nerves.

One week after that he finally dealt with Katey. Well, to be fair, she dealt with him. Almost like taking a dying animal out of its misery. It had been telling that he thought about it for all of ten minutes after it went down. He had had the decency to feel bad about it, but then lost all interest in Katey when he saw Neela speaking with Gates.

He had calmed his rampaging hormones and told himself to wait. Just wait. Trust her.

Trust the black t-shirt – which he had worn the night before while recording some music. It had somehow managed to inspire him.

And when the boy who thought he had poisoned a classmate to death had asked him if he had ever been jealous, he answered truthfully for once.

He was being patient. Though it was nearly killing him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The CD had been done on a whim, and to be honest, he had been a little embarrassed with how high school it looked. But she appreciated kitschy, and if there was anything that CD cover was, it was kitschy. It was Valentine's Day, and didn't she deserve something romantic?

Especially since he had heard through the grapevine that she and Tony might be headed for quits.

So he had been in a good mood when he had realized true to form that he had left the CD in his locker, intending to give it to Neela at work but never quite growing the balls to do it. He had figured that whatever event Kovac was dragging them to would be as good a time as any. He at least looked good in his suit. He had even ironed, though he had burned one shirt before correctly ironing the one he had ended up wearing. Neela had taught him how to iron, saying "taking shirts out of the package and wearing them was one step up from wearing a chochoo train sweater to a school photo."

Abby and Luka's wedding had been beautiful, and Neela had looked beautiful. He couldn't figure out why she had arrived with Gates, but had decided to let it go after having a couple of drinks. He had retreated upstairs to get his thoughts together, and had been pleasantly surprised when she found him up there.

Oh, but their conversation had held so much. At least he had thought so. Confessions he had been aching to hear, and finally got to. She apparently _did_ have feelings, but had felt guilty because of Michael. And she had needed to see Gates to get past that. Gates as speed bump, Ray was fine with that concept, as long as he himself was the final destination. And it had been looking like that was going to be the case.

So he had reached over and rubbed her arm, reveling in how warm she felt, and wondering if tonight, a wedding night, was finally going to give him what he had wanted for so damn long, but hadn't figured out until too damn late.

As he said, he couldn't pinpoint exactly when he had fallen for her.

And when Hope interrupted them, he had decided to just let it go. Because for once, it looked like Dr. Barnett just might emerge the winner.

Until he was stupid.

Looking back on it he didn't know why he had reacted so viscerally. Why he hadn't just waited a few more seconds to see what would happen. Apparently they broke up that same evening he got hit, so if he had _just waited_ instead of drowning his sorrows in hard liquor, who knows what would have happened? He and Neela might have gone to breakfast the next day, started a relationship, whatever.

It was hard to think about.

Plus he had missed the good chunk of a wedding of two people he called friends. Not exactly one of his shining moments.

But when he had seen Gates touching Neela, it had been a flashback to that damn supply closet. The anger. And he could have sworn he suddenly smelled bleach in the air.

So he had walked straight to the bar and ordered some drinks. God knows how many.

And when Gates had walked over he had been snide. Prideful. Arrogant. All the things he normally tasked Gates with. He had wanted to lash out and hurt like he had been hurt.

Which was why he brought up Meg.

Airing his dirty laundry in front of Morris, Pratt and several of the ER staff wasn't what ticked Ray off to this day. It was Neela's expression of disappointment that followed him out the door, and Pratt's expression of disappointment that had made him head straight for another bar instead of his empty apartment.

He had never gotten another roommate. Well, except for a fish.

The rest of the evening had been a drunken haze, until that fateful moment when he was mowed down.

What followed was a period of darkness, bile, hate and anger. A period he didn't like to revisit. At that time even thinking of Neela made him shut down. Luckily neither Katey or his mom brought her up, and he was dealing with larger issues – such as whether or not he wanted his life to continue.

He didn't like to think about that time.

And when Neela had finally seen him, he had been hurt, angry, bitter and depressed. Frankly, it had led him to say things that she needed to hear. He didn't regret what he had said, though he regretted not appreciating that he was still alive.

He didn't speak with her for weeks, until he heard about her accident from of all people, Katey. That had been what spurred him to write Neela a letter, explaining his feelings of darkness, explaining that he couldn't talk to her right now, he had bigger things to focus on, and explaining that this time, it was he that needed the space from her phone calls.

He had focused on getting better. He had focused on getting on his feet. He had focused on improving his outlook, his optimism. He had focused on getting his job back.

And slowly but surely, he built his list of accomplishments. And he realized, he was pretty damn awesome.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

When he had learned of Greg's death, that's when he had reached out again to her, needing to hear about Greg, needing to hear about County, needing to hear about the family that had been his for three years.

He had been sorry to hear about what Abby had gone through. Neela didn't tell him much, telling him it was private, but what she didn't say was loud and clear enough to come through. He had waited until Abby was settled in Boston, then gave her a call. It had been good to hear her voice. She sounded much healthier, and Luka was doing well.

And Abby had flat out told him to visit Neela. In her usual direct way she had said, "Stop being a dumbass and just go see her. She needs you. Even if it's just as a friend, Ray." He had thought about her lack of a social life as evidence from their last IM interaction and agreed. Dr. Rasgotra seemed awfully lonely of late.

So when he had learned of a conference in Chicago he had packed up his bags and went.

Seeing her had been amazing. It had reminded him that she was first and foremost his _friend_, and that he had missed just having her around to talk to. He had vowed that he wouldn't let that go, regardless of what happened.

The ER had changed – faces he didn't recognize, an ER he didn't recognize. But Morris was still Morris, and Frank was still Frank. At some point in the day Frank had gotten his toga stuck in a gurney and had flashed a couple of old ladies. Instead of being embarrassed, he from then on referred to the incident as "FF-Day" as in "Frank Flash Day."

Morris and Ray had only rolled their eyes.

And it only figured that Neela had already managed to get another admirer. This time a foreigner with an accent that almost matched her own. Ray hadn't liked him on the spot, noticing that he was an awful lot like Gates. (Who apparently was dating Sam now? God, how times changed.) But Neela had seemed uncomfortably awkward around him, which meant something had already transpired, or something was about to.

Dr. Brenner was a dick.

But Dr. Brenner was present and Ray wasn't.

So Ray had decided to let her go. He would still be her friend, still be in her life. But he had decided that Neela Rasgotra needed no protecting. She could figure her own damn life out.

That hadn't stopped the sparks from flying though. Or the two near kisses that drowned him in the past.

The third kiss had been a bit of a good-bye in a sense. A passage to the next part of their lives where they could let go of the past and move on to whatever the future held.

She had still tasted damn good. He had meant to only give her a light good-bye peck. But he couldn't resist coming back in for a second, deeper kiss.

And when she had offered to have him stay, for a second he wavered. For a second he had considered throwing maturity to the wind and considered spending one damn night with her, making memories.

But he had known if he took that night it would be that much harder to leave the next day.

So he had left, throwing out "see you soon" to encourage her to keep up their born again friendship.

And she did. Through texts, emails, phone calls. Suddenly Neela was back in his life, and back in the role of good, approaching best, friend.

So he had told her about Jenny. Thanksgiving at Jenny's house had been madness. One of four kids, her parents were Georgia natives, and thus, the entire family descended for Thanksgiving. Which made it one hectic but fun weekend.

And it was only once, while he was giving thanks, that he had wondered, _"I wonder what Neela is giving thanks for."_

A couple of months later his Mom had dropped by with a box. Saying she had found it in her attic shoved behind some old furniture. It was more stuff of his that she had packed, put away for when he was ready.

He had thanked her, had a lovely dinner with her, and sent her on her way, wondering what the box had in store.

Among random medical books and some items of clothing he found something that took his breath away.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

The black t-shirt.

It had survived all this time, buried under multiple items, looking a bit worse for the wear, but still with the pattern of one of his favorite bands' logos.

He wondered if this was a sign.

Against his better judgment he washed it, and put it in his nightstand.

As Jenny had slept with him the next night it was almost like he could feel the shirt burning a hole through the wood.

He felt guilty – and he knew why. He wondered why he didn't just throw it away. After all, what did it represent? A failed relationship?

Through it all Neela continued to call.

And on one fateful day he found himself typing "I'm thinking of you…" to her new cellphone, wondering what he meant by that, and hitting send before he could overanalyze it.

When she responded that she was thinking of him too he nearly had a coronary.

He broke up with Jenny a week later. After he did it he finally realized who she had reminded him of. Katey Alvaro. Make the mistake once shame on you, make the mistake twice, shame on me…

The black shirt haunted him.

On February eleventh, which he supposed Frank would call "TS-Day" as in t-shirt day, Ray finally decided to do something about his predicament.

Neela was still calling, and though he badly wanted to ask if the Australian doctor was in the picture since she had mentioned him a few times, he studiously avoided asking. He didn't want to know.

February eleventh was when he decided to send a Valentine's Day gift. A black t-shirt to be precise. He went to the post-office before his shift, addressed the envelope, put his return address on it, and sent the thing by priority mail to arrive on Valentine's Day.

He stood in line with the other doofus' to do it. Thirty minutes of standing in line with other men who looked just as harassed and stressed out as he did. He figured they were sending last minute gifts just as he was, but with a different intent.

He didn't include a card, hoping she would get the message loud and clear. But he did write _"Happy Valentine's Day"_ on a post-it and stuck it to the front of the shirt.

The next few days were sheer torture. He waited. Checked his messages, waited some more.

She called at some point on the twelfth, but he didn't pick up the phone, knowing that if he did he wouldn't be able to have a straight conversation.

So it was with some trepidation that he picked up the phone on February fifteenth, squirreling himself into the doctor's lounge, putting himself in a corner where he hoped he wouldn't be noticed or heard.

"Hey." He told himself not to give anything away, knowing mail got lost, knowing she might not have even opened the envelope yet.

"Ray." When she said his name quietly he knew she had opened it, knew this phone call was going to dictate what they were going to be next.

"You got my package."

"Yes, I did. It caused some…problems."

"What problems?"

"I opened it while Simon was over. It was from you, I couldn't wait to open it. Who knew what you had sent me? A gag gift, chocolates, Peeps… It seemed innocent at the time. But after I opened it, I didn't feel like doing much of anything with Simon. It was Valentine's Day. Thus, problems." He could hear the tiredness in her voice, and thought that she was probably underplaying what had gone down. An epic argument from the sound of things.

He had received the confirmation that she had been seeing someone else, but he dared to hope that it sounded like history. This time he wasn't going to jump to conclusions. So he waited, and was rewarded when she continued. She never could stand awkward phone silences.

"We were already having some problems. I told him about the offer at Duke, and he wasn't quite sure how to take it. We were just so new…"

He finally inserted himself into the conversation.

"What does this have to do with me, Neela?"

"Everything." Neela sighed, and he could almost picture her rubbing her face. "I remember the shirt Ray."

"I was hoping you would. It followed me to Baton Rouge. I didn't take it, but it followed."

"On two legs?" She sounded confused.

He laughed nervously. "No, my mom packed it with other things, and she just found the box it was in and gave me the box." He decided to go the same confessional route she did. "It caused kind of the same problem with me and Jenny."

"Wow. Who knew a t-shirt could have so much power."

"Indeed."

"So, I was thinking Ray."

"Yes?"

"I'd like for you to see me in this t-shirt."

His heart pounded so hard his vision blurred.

"I'd like to see you in the tee-shirt."

"Unfortunately, I can't get away. They're already antsy with me visiting other universities, and it's hard for me to make an excuse to come down to Baton Rouge. You understand? I want to make sure you understand that I want to make the effort, but I can't." He could hear her anxiety.

"I get it, Neela. I get it. Look, there are VA hospitals in Chicago. I think I can come up with a legitimate reason to visit. And that way it'll be more than a twenty-four hour jaunt."

She let out a huge sigh, and he realized she must have been holding her breath. It made him feel giddy. He made her nervous.

"Ray, that would be fantastic. And by the way, this time, you're staying here."

"Okay." Was all he could choke out.

"And Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll be free by then..."

He filled in the blank: …of certain Australian doctors.

He took a deep breath. "I can't believe you're taking the plunge."

"I've learned a lot about myself this year. I'm more comfortable with risk. And someone told me 'inaction is a form of action.' I might as well _do_ something this time around."

He couldn't resist. "_Do_ something?" He said lasciviously.

"Oh, Barnett. Just you wait. Call me with your flight details."

He practically broke his fingers getting to a travel website as fast as he could.

When he finally showed up a month later she was wearing the t-shirt over jeans at the airport.

"Did you come from work in that?" He thought she had said she was working today.

"Yup."

"What did everyone think about that?"

"Most people asked me if I had run out of laundry. One patient went on and on about a song called 'Death Blue'-"

"An instant classic." He interjected. She looked at him with a dubious expression.

"And Morris…" She laughed. "Morris told me that if I didn't come in the next time he saw me looking like I got laid he would beat _you_ with a stick."

Ray had the decency to at least adopt a somewhat chagrined expression. "I _might_ have told him I was coming."

"Yeah, I know. He practically crowed it to me while I was eating lunch. Do you know what Morris is like when he's feeling right?"

"Pompous."

"Overbearing."

Simultaneously: "An ass."

"But we love him." Ray issued a silent thank you to Archie.

"That we do."

"Any problems with the man from Down Under?"

"He's upset. It's awkward. God. I thought Abby and Sam had the record for most disastrous relationships in the hospital. It's hard working next to not only one, but two people you've dated."

"You won't be doing that much longer."

"I know. I gotta figure things out. I gotta figure this out." She wrapped her fingers around his with her last statement.

"Hey. I like your shirt."

"It was given to me by a man with dubious taste."

"Hey!"

She smiled.

She wore the shirt every night for the next four that he was there. Though other than the first night when they talked, talked, and talked, it didn't stay on very long.

He wondered if he would need to bronze it. Bring it out to show their kids and use it to tell the story of how their parents met. Turn it into a pillow.

It would be hard to get Neela to part with it.

She kept it when he returned to Baton Rouge, saying she needed it beside her when she was thinking of him. Then she inserted some naughty bits of how she'd be using it while he was gone.

He told her to send him pictures. Which promptly made her blush and turn all shades of red.

He always won the flirtation battles, he had more practice. But she could tear him to shreds just by throwing him a flirtatious look over her shoulder while wearing his black t-shirt.

This time around, they were getting it right.

And two years later she answered his question about where she would put the black t-shirt in the future.

She sewed a piece of it into the lining of her wedding dress.

**End.**


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